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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774387">after the games</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakeriders/pseuds/quakeriders'>quakeriders</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>feysand tumblr prompt fills [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, bullet point fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 14:21:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakeriders/pseuds/quakeriders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>anon requested: feysand + hunger games au [<i>"I know you probably won't answer this for a while because of your personal life but I think you doing a feysand hunger games au would be neat x)"</i>]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Feyre Archeron/Rhysand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>feysand tumblr prompt fills [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1333426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>after the games</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is a headcanon/bullet point format. no capitalisation. im in the middle of finals week, but i got this message and my brain couldn't stop thinking about this.</p>
<p>if you can't deal with the format, so sorry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <ul>
<li>rhys and feyre are from the same district, rhys won the hunger games like four or five years ago and he’s the capitols darling bc he’s handsome and strong and clever and knows how to play their game</li>
<li>the year nesta turns eighteen, elain’s name gets drawn. feyre volunteers without thinking twice about it.</li>
<li>feyre has to be what? sixteen - seventeen at most - and she’s terrified but glad that at least elain gets to live. next year, she will be eighteen and both her sister will be safe - at least from the reaping.</li>
<li>so when feyre is on the train and rhys asks her about her skills, she reveals that she’s good with a bow and arrow. she’s reluctant to share much with him because she’s sure that she will die. there’s no way she could survive</li>
<li>as for the boy who gets reaped, he’s just another kid from the district. poor, hungry and scared to death.</li>
<li>rhys - who has seen too many kids die and isn’t willing to give up on either of them - tries to encourage them, but without giving them false hope</li>
<li>they arrive in the capitol, the training goes as well as it could, feyre gets a mid-range score that is both surprising since she’s from one of the poorest districts but also not that worrying because everyone is speculating over which career might win</li>
<li>the night before the games begin, feyre seeks rhys out to ask him how it feels. rhys asks her what she means and she clarifies: “how does it feel to kill someone?” he goes quiet for a moment, face blank and then replies as honestly as he can. that their death stays with you and that you will never be able to forget and that he wouldn’t wish the feeling on anyone else.</li>
<li>then, he does something he has never done before. he grips her chin and says, “but it’s better than dying yourself.”</li>
<li>the arena is a forrest. but its winter. everything is covered in snow and ice. its the best feyre could have hoped for. she doesn’t get any weapons or a pack, just runs before anyone can catch her.</li>
<li>she’s not good at it but she climbs a tree and stays there, hidden behind the leaves and waits out the bloodbath</li>
<li>once she’s no longer shaking but thirsty, she has to come down.</li>
<li>but feyre has spend so much time in cold woods, she knows how to remain hidden.</li>
<li>she has no choice but to warm up the snow in her palms and then drink it. from then on its all about staying hidden, warm and hydrated.</li>
<li>she manages to outlive half of the tributes by simply staying out of everyones way.</li>
<li>when the boy from her district dies, feyre cries. that night she gets sent a container full of hot broth, bread and a note from rhys. “find a weapon. better them than you.” is all it says</li>
<li>she does. feyre has been tracking a small group of careers and when their alliance breaks apart after an argument, she snipes two blades and a backpack with food and a blanket.</li>
<li>she really was hoping to get a bow and arrow but can’t risk staying for too long. she goes back to her strategy of hiding.</li>
<li>on the third day, the unavoidable happens. she gets spotted by two people, a boy and a girl, both from the same district. somehow, and feyre doesn’t know how, muscle memory kicks in and she manages to kill them like she has killed so many rabbits before.</li>
<li>its fast and brutal and once the panic is over, she’s kneeling in the red-stained snow and her hands are warm for the first time since she entered the arena.</li>
<li>she doesn’t cry.</li>
<li>that night feyre finds out there there are only five tributes left. she has made it so far and finally, she thinks she might outlive the others. her hands are clean the next morning as she climbs a tree to hide in but thats when her luck runs out.</li>
<li>an arrow hits her right in the arm, making her loose her grip and fall down. its only the adrenaline that enables her get a hold of a blade before the person is on top of her and a pair of big hands are wrapping around her throat.</li>
<li>its andras, a career tribute from district two and he’s grinning at her. her vision is blurry by the time she manages to bury her dagger in his side. he lets go of her, reaching for the blade, when feyre uses the second to drive it straight through his eye.</li>
<li>he falls on top of her, his heavy body landing on her injured arm and she has to bite her lip to keep from screaming.</li>
<li>eventually she manages to get out from under him and then she sees it. the bow and arrow.</li>
<li>even while her arm is bleeding, feyre laughs. half-hysterical, she bandages her arm, collects all the weapons she can and realizes there’s no way she can climb a tree with her injury.</li>
<li>so, her decision is made. she can’t hide anymore. but at least, she has her bow and arrows now.</li>
<li>that last night in the arena, there’s only three people left. feyre’s arm is burning, she’s anxious and thinks every rustle is caused by an incoming attacker but somehow she’s left undisturbed. still, she doesn’t sleep.</li>
<li>the gamemakers must be getting impatient because right at dawn, a wild fire breaks out. feyre runs for her life and right into a clearing where the two other tributes are already sizing up each other.</li>
<li>one is weilding a heavy sword that is capable of cutting a person in half, the other is holding onto a hammer. both of them are covered in dried blood and dirt and feyre thinks she must be looking the same.</li>
<li>with her bow and arrow ready, feyre realizes that she has the advantage. while the others either need to get closer or let go of the weapon to do damage, feyre can just shoot them</li>
<li>the realisation almost makes her miss how the hammer gets lifted higher. its not aimed towards her but feyre knows that between her and the career, she’s much easier to take on without a weapon. still, the movement is enough for feyre to shoot.</li>
<li>the arrow hits its mark and the hammers falls into the snow. the other tribute charges for her, sword raised and for a moment feyre thinks she won’t be fast enough.</li>
<li>but she is. somehow, surprisingly, miraculously, she is.</li>
<li>her last arrow hits and when the career falls, the tip of the sword lands mere inches from feyre’s feet</li>
<li>she won-</li>
<li>she realizes she’s won as she looks at the two dead bodies in the clearing and can hear the fain sounds of two canons going off.</li>
<li>after that, everything goes dark.</li>
<li>she wakes up groggy and in a off-puttingly white room.</li>
<li>rhys is sitting at her bedside, looking haggard and grim-faced</li>
<li>when she tries to sit up, her head spins, not because she’s physically weak but because she’s remembering everyone who entered that area with her</li>
<li>they don’t talk for hours</li>
<li>until feyre is prepped and primed and surrounded by people who are smiling brightly and congratulating her on slaughtering other children.</li>
<li>when she’s finally back on the train, all she can think is that rhys was right, she wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone else</li>
<li>her sisters hug her when they arrive home. they are crying but smiling through their tears and feyre is surprised that she is feeling nothing</li>
<li>hours pass, then days, then months.</li>
<li>somehow, she goes on her victory tour. her team makes sure to cover the dark circles under her eyes and make her look less lifeless</li>
<li>the only person who doesn’t smile is rhys</li>
<li>but he’s there. he’s there when she wakes up at night, when she is sick and shaking and crying. he doesn’t say anything but feyre knows that she didn’t wake him up. no, she knows by the circles under his eyes, that he too hasn’t been sleeping</li>
<li>she now knows why</li>
<li>but once they arrive at the capitol, he’s all smirks and winks and lewd remarks. the people love him and while they fawn over feyre and her “impressive show of skill”, they don’t want to talk to her. they love to talk to him</li>
<li>hours before the last party thrown in her honor, she finally breaks and asks: “how can you stomach it? playing nice with them?”</li>
<li>he doesn’t answer, just flips the page of the book he’s reading and says that she’s supposed to get ready for the party</li>
<li>they return home.</li>
<li>feyre’s new house is big and richly decorated and there’s always food. there’s nothing to do- well, there is but there’s nothing feyre wants to do.</li>
<li>elain has arranged a painting studio in the house, filled with canvases and all sorts of paints, but feyre doesn’t think she’d be able to paint anything but blood on snow. and she doesn’t think she’d be able to stomach the sight of that.</li>
<li>not when its all she sees in her dreams.</li>
<li>feyre’s is alive. but she isn’t living.</li>
<li>she isn’t sure how it happens but she blinks and months have passed.</li>
<li>one day, she overhears elain and nesta talking about the reaping and thats when she realizes it has almost been a year since she left the arena</li>
<li>which also means that its time for the next games</li>
<li>and event though her sisters are both too old to be in the games, feyre isn’t free of the terror</li>
<li>she’s supposed to be a mentor now</li>
<li>she won’t be able to ignore the games like she has been ignoring anything else</li>
<li>and when the two kids - a 14 year old boy and a 17 year old girl - get reaped, Feyre shakes herself out of the numbness and looks at the terrified children and thinks that she can’t let them die.</li>
<li>when she looks at rhys next, she sees the same sort of determination in his eyes</li>
<li>he smiles at her</li>
<li>the first smile he has given her since before she went into the arena</li>
<li>its small and sad and knowing</li>
<li>so, when the 17 year old girl asks feyre how it feels to kill someone, she tells her what rhys has told her not a year before</li>
<li>the day of the games, many eyes are on her. as the latest victor, she’s still under close watch, and when the canon goes off and feyre takes rhys’ hand, she feels a rush go through the crowd around them</li>
<li>rhys just squeezes her hand and together they watch as the child that they were supposed to mentor gets thrown into blood bath</li>
<li>when the boy dies, rhys fingers tighten on hers. his grip is so tight that it hurts. his lips barely move but he whispers, “don’t cry.”</li>
<li>her eyes burn with the effort but she manages and she knows why. all eyes are on them.</li>
<li>and once the action is over and the dust is settled, a reporter finds them and asks, “how do you feel?”</li>
<li>rhys answers, his words clipped but smooth and feyre wonders if she’s the only person who can hear the loathing in them</li>
<li>during the games, they chat up the wealthy, talk up their tributes and feyre watches from afar as rhys manages to sweet talk a group of women to sponsor their girl</li>
<li>she understands then why he’s playing their game</li>
<li>its all for nothing, because their girl dies the next day and suddenly they aren’t watched anymore.</li>
<li>rhys pulls her away and into their rooms and feyre’s hands are shaking, her whole body is shaking but then, arms are wrapped around her and rhys holds her tightly</li>
<li>she realizes only when she’s stopped crying, that he is shaking too. that she isn’t the only one who’s crying</li>
<li>and the rest of that night, they don’t let go of each other</li>
</ul>
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